A Very Fringe Christmahanufestivus
by Hannibal the Animal
Summary: How does the gang celebrate the winter holidays? The only way they know how!
1. Christmas!

**Chapter Title:** _Christmas_

**Pairing: **_Peter/Liv,__???/???, Astrid/Walter_

**Characters: **_Astrid F, Olivia D, Peter B, Walter B_

**POV: **_Olivia, Astrid_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Family/Friends, Humour_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened as this was started before "Safe" and I'm not writing happy stuff without Liv_

**Warnings:** _mild sexual humour_

**Challenges:** _Christmas, December 17 2008,_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Chapters: **_1/3_

**Word count:** _3377_

* * *

Tinsel. Garlands. Poinsettia arrangements. Icicle lights.

Olivia felt like she had walked into a Macy's Christmas display. Well, one that had been set up in the basement laboratory of Harvard's Kresge Building. She hung her heavy parka on the coat tree and then simply stood still, trying to take in the decorated laboratory; someone had obviously spent a lot of time putting everything up and put a lot of effort into creating the paper chains and snowflakes hanging everywhere.

"Olivia!" Walter called out happily and her attention was directed to the makeshift office she had set up in one of the side rooms.

He was wearing a red knit sweater with felt reindeer flying across and much to her amused delight, Peter was wearing a similar sweater, though his was green and had a smiling snow man.

"_Looove_ the threads, Peter," she teased.

Peter gave her a nasty smile and he handed her a folded black sweater. "Good, cuz here's yours."

A feeling of panic set in as she drew back from the piece of clothing. "Oh, uh, I don't wear—"

"You don't have a choice. Put it on," he ordered.

Olivia swallowed hard as she opened and held up the sweater and studied it. Cut out of red felt were huge bulb ornament shapes sewn on in random places, decorated with obscene amounts metallic piping and a disturbing quantity of sequins. As if that weren't enough, rhinestones the size of her thumbnails decorated the collar line. She took a deep breath and pulled it over her head.

"Wow. Uh, thank you, Walter," she said as she looked at herself in the reflection of a nearby computer monitor.

Walter gave a triumphant look to his son. "Told you she'd like it."

Behind his father's back, Peter mouthed, _"Tasteful," _and she scowled right back, thinking darkly,

'_All I need now is a headdress made out of rat skeletons, and I'd fit right in at an Off-Off-Off-Broadway burlesque.'_

Walter seemed oblivious to the less-than-enthusiastic feelings towards the sweaters and wandered over to an Erlenmeyer flask that was boiling over a Bunsen burner. "I've made hot chocolate! And the way you like it, Peter! With the ground hazelnut?"

Peter seemed quite surprised at this information. "You remember that?"

"Of _course_ I'd remember how you like your hot chocolate," his father replied as though it had been a foolish question.

Olivia shrugged at Peter and they both accept mugs of the delicious hot drink. Astrid came bustling into the laboratory, arms weighed down with shopping bags filled with Christmas ornaments. Shutting the door with her hip, she came towards the trio.

"Dr. Bishop! I've brought the ornaments you asked for! Morning, Liv! I was…oh, _uh_, nice sweater," she said giving her a wary smile.

Olivia glowered. "This is an involuntary fashion statement."

"Hello, young lady! How are you this morning?" Walter asked cheerfully as he handed her his empty coffee mug, obviously wanting her to fill it.

Astrid looked as though she were trying to bite back a laugh. "Fine, Dr. Bishop. You certainly look festive today."

Peter snatched the mug out of her hands, shooing his father away. "Walter, she's not a slave. Good morning, Astrid."

"Morning, Peter. Did your dad dress you today?" she asked innocently.

He glared at her. "I didn't have a choice. And you have one too, so wipe that smile off of your face."

Walter returned to them, sidling up to the assistant. "And here's something for you to wear. I bought it while Peter was off getting us coffee. "

Instead of producing a sweater, he held out a small florist's box, which he opened with a flourish to reveal a corsage of holly, evergreen sprigs, and white flower buds.

"Ooh!" Astrid exclaimed, looking very happy.

"Wait, why does she get that? Why isn't she wearing one of these?" Olivia asked as the neckline of her own garish sweater irritated her skin.

"She already wears nice sweaters. I didn't want to muss up her sense of flair," the scientist said as he pinned the florals to her assistant's sweater.

"Thank you, Walter," the younger woman said, examining the corsage.

Peter looked just as pissed as Olivia felt. "Walter, we bought four sweaters. If Astrid gets a love token, who has the last sweater?"

"Gene, of course. Since she can't wear it, I've hung it next to her stall. Just because she's a cow doesn't mean she can't celebrate with us." Then he added, "And it's not a love token."

"Walter, I didn't pay twenty five bucks for the cow to join in on your reindeer games."

"Her name is Gene and she is a cow. _Rangifer tarandus_ have nothing to do with this," he said critically then threw his hands in the air. "Oh! And before I forget, Santa came last night!"

Olivia checked her watch, which had a date function on it. Yes, she wasn't going crazy: it was still December 17, a Wednesday.

"Santa?" she said skeptically.

Walter handed them each a red fuzzy Christmas stocking, including one for Astrid. "And he didn't forget you, Miss."

Olivia held her stocking warily and decided to watch Astrid investigate hers first so she'd have some idea what to expect; Astrid fished out a rolled piece of paper and opened it up, smiling.

"Honourary Certificate of Laboratory Assistance," she read aloud, though seemed less enthusiastic about the next thing she pulled out. "And Cup-a-Noodles."

"Yes, shrimp flavoured," Walter said happily.

Olivia moved to one of the many desks and carefully poured out the contents of her fuzzy red stocking onto the wood surface. Four Hershey's bars, a ball made of rubber bands, an aluminum can tab, two Snickers bars, a bag of peanut M&M's, a single AAA battery, and a pair of 1991 license plate tags.

"Are these yours?" she asked Peter, holding the tags up.

"They go to the Vista Cruiser—is this where all the vending machine food went?" the younger Bishop asked as he peered into his own stocking.

"Not all of it," Walter replied uneasily then pointed overhead. "Mistletoe."

Olivia looked up and realised that indeed she was standing under a cloud of mistletoe and coffee filter snowflakes. "Oh, uh—"

"You have to kiss. That's the rules," he said firmly and she looked over at the younger woman standing next to her.

Astrid shrugged and gave Olivia a quick peck on the corner of her mouth before she could react. Peter grinned and Olivia decided she was far more interested in her candy bars than his face.

**(Line Break)**

Astrid was humming "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" while checking the latest shipment of test tubes when Dr. Bishop snuck up on her, making her jump about a foot in the air.

"Aquarius, do you have your car?"

"Oh! You scared me," she said, trying to calm her racing heart. "Yes, I have the car."

"Good." He pushed a handful of bills into her hands. "We need to go Christmas shopping."

**(Line Break)**

Dr. Bishop had rolled down the passenger side window, letting the frigid air into the car as he yelled, "We're getting a tree! We're getting a tree! We're getting a tree! We're getting a tree!"

Astrid pulled into the parking lot of the Safeway, where a Boy Scout troop was selling the Christmas evergreens and found a parking place for the government-owned SUV. She was happy to be out of the laboratory and as she found the doctor his pair of bright red mittens, she gave a silent prayer of thanks that he wasn't more than she could handle, though he was refusing his coat under the belief that he'd get the wool sticky with resin. Going out to participate in traditional Christmas pastimes of rushing and spending money was something she secretly enjoyed and could tell he liked, too. She also figured that Peter and Olivia needed a break from Walter and while her original reason for joining the FBI wasn't to become a babysitter, she was able to view it more as "hanging out". It was also considerably more fun than filling out papers or checking test tube shipments, that was sure.

"How tall of a tree do you want?" she asked as she climbed out of the vehicle and walked around to his side.

"Taller than me!" he said animatedly, waving his hands high above his head.

"Nothing too big, though," she said as a man in scout master uniform approached them.

"Morning!" the man greeted.

"We want to buy a Christmas tree," Dr. Bishop said happily.

Like a used car sales man, the scout master's face lit up and he gave them a toothy grin, beckoning them to follow. "We have plenty of great trees for you two to pick from."

As she walked among the rows of trees, she wondered what the two of them looked like from the outside. A couple? A man and his nurse? Two parishioners from a church? Dr. Bishop's observations of the atmospheric weather certainly didn't alleviate any of her questions.

"It sure is cold!" he looked down at the front of his festive Christmas sweater. "My nipples are hard. What about yours, Areola?"

She stopped walking and planted her hands firmly on her hips. "We are **not** discussing my nipples, Walter."

The man looked like he wanted to laugh and Dr. Bishop looked a little annoyed to have been scolded in front of a stranger.

"Just trying to make conversation." He looked over in the direction of the Safeway. "I have the sudden craving for whipped cream. And maraschino cherries."

"_Please_ stop talking," she said with an exasperated sigh.

He gave her a very impatient look. "We will need to stop at the grocery store before we return to the lab."

The scout leader obviously felt it was necessary to add his two cents to the matter. "Sounds like you've got a good day planned out."

"Indeed!" Dr. Bishop agreed as he violently shook a tree that he apparently liked.

As she gave the man a death glare, Astrid decided he would NOT be getting a tip.

**(Line Break)**

A lovely tree tied to the top of the SUV and the Christmas dinner in the trunk, they had moved on to official Christmas present shopping. Kmart was decided upon as the best place to buy almost everything in one fell swoop. They were wandering the aisles, she pushing the shopping cart while his hand rested on the lattice patterned plastic.

"Do you think he'd like this mountain bike?" he asked as a child's bicycle display distracted him.

"Where would he use it?" she asked as she checked her watch, very pleased at how well she was budgeting their time.

"Good point. What about this helmet?"

With all of the crazy cases they were working on, it didn't sound like such a bad idea, but she shook her head.

He shrugged and looked at the toy aisle with its bright lights and colourful plastic. He instantly honed in on a red fire truck, plucking it off the shelf to examine it.

"Peter wanted one of these when he was eight," he said softly.

"Did you get him one?" she asked, watching him almost cower at the sight of it.

He shook his head. "No. That year I spent Christmas in the laboratory. I had forgotten all about it until now."

He set it in the cart, still looking at it sadly and her hand found his, her small fingers resting atop his knuckles. He gave her a smile that broke her heart and he wandered over to the next thing that caught his eye, a toy fighter jet.

"Honey, do you think he'd like a new radio?"

Astrid felt her heart stop. "What did you just call me?"

He looked at her blankly. "Hmm?"

"You just called me honey," she said pointedly.

He shrugged. "Oh, I'm sorry. I must have thought you were Peter's mother. But do you think he'd like a new radio?"

"I have no idea," she said weakly and pushed the cart in the opposite direction.

**(Line Break)**

Apparently Dr. Bishop viewed Peter's gear as brought back with him from Iraq as inadequate, so their next trip was to Cabela's, a large hunting retail store known as the "World's Foremost Outfitter" to buy things to replace Peter's, though Dr. Bishop assured her that he didn't think Peter would need to use it in Iraq ever again.

"He's got a secure job here," he said firmly as she found a shopping cart at the front of the store.

His hand once again held onto the side of the cart as she pushed it along the different aisles and displays.

"He needs a good backpack. The one he brings with him is simply horrible. He should have something better than a canvas rucksack. And new socks. His have _**holes**_ in them," he said not hiding the disgust in his voice.

"Noted," she said as she looked at camouflage-coloured shoelaces, wondering if Peter might need new ones for the boots he wore.

Dr. Bishop wandered up the aisle a bit to look at sporks made of titanium. "There was one time I was in Atlantic City, and I accidentally order a fruit cup."

She grinned. "Don't tell me—you aren't a fruit cup kind of guy?"

He spun around to look at her, his eyes large. "My dear that was EXACTLY what I was going to say."

"You've told me the story before."

The surprised him even further. "We talk a lot?"

She nodded as she decided on a pair of black nylon cord laces. "Yes, we do."

"Is that _**all**_ we do?" he said with a sly grin.

She couldn't help but return the same smile. "Are you flirting with me?"

He shrugged. "You could probably call it leering as well." He pointed at a display counter up ahead. "Look at that knife! You could cut _anything_ with it!"

She shook her head and motioned for him to follow her. "C'mon, Dr. Bishop. Let's go get that pack."

His hand returned to the side of the shopping cart. "We should fill it with surprises. Like a bone saw. And maybe handcuffs."

"I'm not even going to ask why you think he'd need those things," she grumbled.

"I remember one time I laid slivers of almond all over a woman's—"

She held up her hand. "Stop right there. I **don't** want to know."

"You'll miss what I did with the honey," he warned.

"I don't want to know," she repeated.

"Your loss," he grumbled as he tossed in a few pairs of socks.

She rolled her eyes and started pushing the cart again. "I'm sure."

**(Line Break)**

"I sing the body electric. The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them; They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, and discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul," he said his hands cradling the coffee cup they picked up at Starbucks. "Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves? And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead? And if the body does not do as much as the Soul? And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul?"

Astrid was waiting at a traffic light, hoping it would turn from red to green soon because she wanted to get back to the lab to get all of the tree set up and decorated. That was always her favourite thing to do during the Christmas holiday other then setting up her great-grandmother's nativity set on the mantle in her apartment. Dr. Bishop seemed intent on reciting the poem, whether for himself or her, she didn't know.

"The love of the Body of man or woman balks account—the body itself balks account; that of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect."

He gave wistful sigh as he looked out the window. She cleared her throat and decided to show him that he wasn't the only person to know Walt Whitman's verse.

"The expression of the face balks account; but the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face; It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists," she said as the light turned green. She let her foot off the brake and Dr. Bishop turned to look at her, astonished. Astrid continued. "It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees—dress does not hide him; the strong, sweet, supple quality he has, strikes through the cotton and flannel; to see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more; you linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side."

"That sounds like poetry out of your mouth," he said, placing his coffee in the vehicle's cup holder.

She raised an eyebrow. "It _is_ poetry."

He shrugged as if he didn't believe her, but still kept the carefree smile on his face. "If you insist."

**(Line Break)**

Astrid and Olivia happily carried in the grocery bags that bore the evening's early feast while Peter and Dr. Bishop argued about what the best way to bring the Christmas tree into the lab was. Tree finally in place and all the food laid out, Dr. Bishop took the opportunity to hand Olivia a book they had bought up in the school's bookstore. "Something for you."

Olivia's eyes got wide as she looked at the book, "Leaves of Grass". "Oh wow. This is really nice, Walter."

The doctor nodded, looking quite pleased. "You should read it to Peter. Men like to have pretty women read them poetry."

Peter facepalmed and Olivia quickly set the book down. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Be sure you do," he said, obviously unaware of her embarrassment. "Peter you'll have to wait for your presents. Understand? No peeking."

His son rolled his eyes. "I won't peek. Now can we eat? I'm starving."

Astrid herself was relieved to finally get to sit down and eat the food they'd purchased earlier in the day. "Safeway was selling complete Christmas dinners, which means everyone will be taking leftovers home."

"A Christmas goose!" Peter said happily as Walter uncovered the mighty bird in the center of the desk, still warm.

Olivia clapped her hands together. "This looks awesome!"

"Mashed papaya and dinner rolls," Astrid said taking the lids off two different containers.

Olivia set out paper plates for everyone and then utensils. Unexpectedly, serving spoons and napkins were produced and everyone began to serve themselves as the food was placed on the heavy wooden desk.

"I brought fruitcake. And it's good, so don't make that face, Agent Dunham," she said, raising her eyebrows at the blonde who was wincing at the sight of the candied fruit on the ring shaped cake.

"And now for a prayer," Dr. Bishop sang.

Peter didn't look happy to wait any longer for the meal, but waved his father on anyway. "Go ahead."

The doctor dramatically cleared his throat. "And I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes; and they shall know that I am the LORD, when I shall lay my vengeance upon them."

"Who exactly was that threat directed towards?" Astrid asked, making a face.

"Not a threat," he said through a mouthful of papaya. "A _promise_."

"He watched "Pulp Fiction" last night," Peter apologised as he poured gravy from a plastic container over his mashed potatoes.

"They don't say the verse correctly, but it certainly impressive sounding." Walter pointed his hand like a gun towards the mashed potatoes. "Bang!"

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I think that Walter wasn't favouring Astrid over Peter and Liv with the corsage; he probably knew she'd appreciate flowers more than those sweaters._

_I loved when Walter had that (hopefully) toy gun in 1.10. "Stick 'em up!"_

_Fun Fact: all of the stuff found in Olivia's Christmas stocking were things Walter pulled out of the Vista Cruiser's cup holders, which Peter was having him clean out._

_Oh man, I'm ttly gonna write out a Fringe one-shot that follows the Pulp Fiction story line. It's gonna rule._


	2. Hanukkah!

**Chapter Title:** _Hanukkah_

**Pairing: **_Peter/Liv, Astrid/Walter, Olivia/John Scott_

**Characters: **_Astrid F, Olivia D, Peter B, Walter B_

**POV: **_Walter, Olivia_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Family/Friends, Romantical, Humour_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened as this was started before "Safe" and I'm not writing happy stuff without Liv_

**Warnings:** _sexual humour, alcohol, um… pen sets?_

**Challenges:**_ December 22 2008, Hanukkah, _

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Chapters: **_2/3_

**Word count:** _3963_

* * *

One thing he hadn't been allowed to do in St. Claire's was play the piano in the game room because the orderlies claimed he always sang songs about mellified men, which was preposterous because Walter could _clearly_ remember playing "Jailhouse Rock" that one time. But here in the lab—HIS lab, he could sing whatever he wanted and right now he was in the mood for holiday music, specifically the music of the Tribe.

Just like Peter, Walter was capable of memorising a tune he had only heard once or twice, and the song he was itching to play was one that one of the Jewish nurses would sing along with late into the night during the eight days of Hanukkah. He had been able to hear it through the door and over the years he had learned both the music and the words by heart. Now he had the opportunity to share the festive tune with the three young people.

The lovely assistant-who-belonged-to-Olivia-but-should-be-his was standing by the keys where he was warming up. She had brought in eggnog and while it was unprofessional, the alcohol was considerably relaxing the three younger members of his team to more agreeable personalities. At the moment she was sipping the liquid from his "World's Best Scientist" mug, which was a gift from her that he had received almost a month ago.

"Be a lamb and sing along, my dear," Walter said as he beckoned her closer to pour more of the spiked eggnog into her/his mug.

He was hoping that she'd be more inclined to sing if she had a good buzz and she sat down on the piano bench next to him—she had obviously had a few drinks in her and this made him very happy.

"I dunno…I don't want to embarrass myself," she said and he could see a slightly pink tinge to her cheeks.

"You'll only regret it if you don't try it," he offered as his fingers played out chopsticks.

She looked like she was having a hard time keeping the smile off her face. "Fine. What are we singing?"

"Put on your yarmulke, here comes Hanukkah! It's so much fun-akkah to celebrate Hanukkah!" He turned to look at the assistant sitting next to him. "Hanukkah is…the festival of lights. Instead of one day of presents, we have eight crazy nights! When you feel like the only kid in town, without a Christmas tree, here's a list of people who are Jewish, just like _you_ and _me_."

She giggled and set her mug down on the floor next to the bench.

"David Lee Roth lights the menorah. So do James Caan, Kirk Douglas, and the late Dinah Shore-ah!" she sang along with him. "Guess who eats together at the Carnegie Deli? Bowzer from Sha-na-na, and Arthur Fonzerrelli! Paul Newman's half Jewish, Goldie Hawn's half, too. Put them together—what a fine lookin' Jew!"

Peter finally looked up from his workstation, where he was busy soldering wires and pieces of metal. He had an amused smile and Walter was relieved he had done something to make his son happy.

"Walter, how do you the lyrics to Adam Sandler's Hanukkah song?" his boy asked.

"They played it at St. Claire's—**O.J. SIMPSON: NOT A JEW**!" Walter shouted happily along with the piano notes.

Antrax laughed gaily as he trailed the music into another Jewish song, "Hava Nagila", which apparently she recognised and began to sing along to it as well. The blonde girl that Peter was so found of came out of her office, obviously enticed to leave her paperwork with the sound of music.

"This makes me want to dance," Olivia said with a slight laugh as she came down to where he and the assistant sat.

"Dance? I have the perfect song for that." Walter jumped up from the piano bench and hurried over to the record player.

He found a dusty record, the sleeve depicting a California coastline sunset and dropped the needle on the selected song that fit both the day and the mood.

"Dick Dale?" Olivia called out over the loud rush of beach guitar.

Astatine came over to him and turned the music down slightly. "It's actually a Jewish wedding song, though originally created by Greek refugees. _Misirlou_ is Greek for "Egyptian Girl" and it was—"

Walter interrupted the girl because he had the sudden urge to dance. "You don't mind if I dance with your girlfriend, do you, Peter?"

The blonde refused to accept his hand. "I don't dance, Walter."

"And we've been over this—she's not my girlfriend," Peter called out.

Walter began to do the Charleston by himself, ignoring Algebra whom was glaring at him with crossed arms, obviously upset that he had interrupted her boring story. Olivia shook her head and smiled, then turned to leave but Walter reached out and grabbed her by the arm.

"Come, Olivia. Let me show you something I made for your office."

She looked a little surprised, but followed him to the space that had been organised as her office. Peter watched them go by, but apparently the soldering held his attention and he didn't trail them. Waiting on her desk, he had constructed a menorah out of a nine-across test tube stand, glass vials, and phosphorescent gel. Only one of the test tubes had the glowing gel, which he had put in this morning—Peter had refused to let him to do it last night.

"Ah, the Festival of Lights. Isn't it beautiful?" he said, holding the menorah up.

"Are you Jewish?" Olivia asked, and Walter could see that she felt ignorant for not knowing the Bishop men's beliefs.

"No. But Peter is circumcised if that's what you were wondering."

She made a face. "I _wasn't_."

"I just want to make sure everyone's religious beliefs are included and respected. Plus, I like the chocolate gelt and lighting candles." He carefully carried it to the light of the window. "Now you must keep it in the window."

"Why?" she inquired, trailing a few steps behind him.

He paused, quite thoughtful. "I don't know. Tradition."

She nodded and then he decided to add, "You really ought to learn how to dance."

"I do know _how_ to dance, I just _don't_."

"Peter likes to dance, you know," he said pointedly.

He didn't miss the slight smile on her face. "I'll remember that."

"Oh! Before I forget!"

He rushed out of the office and back into the lab, making a beeline to Gene's stall. He grabbed the object he had tucked away into a shadowy area and brought it over to his assistant, whom was putting a new typewriter ribbon in his beloved machine. She still seemed to be in a huff from his earlier disruption and wasn't looking at him.

"Your Hanukkah present," he offered up, hoping to make her happy once more.

She snuck a glance over and upon seeing what he held, her eyes became large and an excited smile graced her lips. "No way. No way!"

"It's purple!" he agreed enthusiastically.

She took the present out of his hands and declared, "A hula hoop!"

Peter made a face. "When did you buy her a hula hoop?"

In all honesty, Walter couldn't remember. "It doesn't matter! Try it out!"

"I love hula-hoops!" Astatic said as she began to spin it around her hips. "I was the hula-hooping champion of my block, you know. I was probably the best in grade school."

"I could watch this forever," he admitted as he leaned on the top of the piano.

"Oh, I'm not that good," she said modestly.

Inspiration to sing took over. "Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, with you I shall play. Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, right here I shall stay. Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, this is what I'll say, dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, with you I will play."

The girl made the ring move faster around her core. "Cute song, Dr. Bishop. Did they teach you that at St. Claire's?"

"Teach me what?" he asked, a little confused.

"That dreidel song."

"I wasn't singing about a dreidel."

"Walter, you **were** singing about a dreidel," Peter argued.

"No, I _wasn't_," he murmured in a sing-song voice.

The girl gave a laugh and winked at him.

Olivia herself looked very amused. "So, Walter, what did you get me for Hanukkah? Not a hula-hoop, I hope."

He pointed over her his shoulder and said flatly, "Your present is in the top drawer of the desk and there's one for Peter too."

He could hear the door open and the unwrapping of tissue paper. "Pen sets. Thank you, Walter."

He ignored the blonde and balanced his chin on his hand as he watched the assistant continue the long streak of rotating the purple ring around her waist and hips. "See if you can go for five more minutes."

"You know, in some work places this would probably end in a lawsuit," his son called out.

"She's having fun, Peter. That's not illegal," Walter disagreed.

"You should know better, Astrid," Peter chastised.

"Spin faster," Walter insisted.

Astrakhan shook her head, which caused her curly hair to bounce. "I'm actually getting a little sore, Dr. Bishop. I think I need to take a break."

He grinned. "It's been a while since I've had a woman say that to me—"

"Walter!" Peter shouted.

* * *

Walter had worn himself out dancing and was napping on a cot bed that Peter had set up next to the radiator in Olivia's office, which gave the three younger people to spend time with one another. They were sitting comfortably around one of the desks, finishing off carton five of the eggnog Astrid had provided, adding their own alcohol.

Olivia was trying to remember a time when she had seriously celebrated a holiday. John hadn't been much for "the meaning of" and he certainly wouldn't be making extra effort to decorate to such extremes, she thought to herself as she looked at the Christmas tree in the corner of the bottom half of the lab. It had been decorated by the four after Christmas dinner with ornaments Astrid had brought in and Olivia had spent the whole time thinking about how John laughed off any thought of using poinsettia patterned napkins, let alone spend an hour setting up an evergreen with bulbs, tinsel and a little nativity set at the base. And over time Olivia had grown to believe that she too thought holidays were ridiculous and impractical, just another way for massive corporations to weasel money out of her wallet.

Now she was looking at the Christmas tree, the beautiful Christmas tree, wishing for the thousandth time that week that she could spend every winter holiday watching Peter Bishop untangle stings of lights, place a golden star on the top of the fir, argue about what the proper amount of tinsel was…yes, she had fallen in love the feeling of the season once more, wondering how she could have ever forgotten it in the first place.

And the heinous sweater the Bishops had given her was tucked away safely in a bottom drawer at home, where she had also tucked away the hopes she'd get to wear it again next year—grudgingly, of course. It _**was**_ criminally ugly, after all.

Peter pulled out a thermos that Olivia suspected was filled with bourbon and poured it into the mouth of the carton. He closed the cardboard mouth once more and shook it up like a martini mixer, then poured the frothy drink into his Starbucks cup. Astrid took the carton from him and poured herself more as well.

"I must confess, I don't usually drink this much," the junior agent said.

"_Suuuuure_," Olivia teased as she filled her mug as well.

Astrid's cheeks turned a vivid pink as she smiled. "No, I'm _serious_! I think it's because I'm in good company."

"I'm flattered," Peter said, his own face taking on a light blush and Olivia wondered if a few sweet words was really all it took to get that out of him.

"These past few months have been the best," Astrid continued.

Peter looked skeptical. "Including being drugged and the fact Walter can't remember your name?"

The younger woman nodded, a placid look on her face. "Absolutely. I could never have imagined getting to work with people as great as you two. And Dr. Bishop."

"To us," Peter toasted, raising his Starbucks cup.

"To science," Olive added, holding up her mug.

Astrid's blush deepened. "To Hanukkah for bringing us together."

Peter drank heavily from his salute then with an eggnog mustache said, "That is such crap that Walter bought you a hula-hoop and gave us pen sets."

Astrid looked fondly over in the direction of her Hanukkah gift. "What's wrong with a pen set? I seem to remember that you like being prepared. And now you won't be without a pen."

"You got a hula hoop, Astrid. What the hell," he grumbled.

"Jealous?" she asked smugly.

"I'm going to take it for a test drive," Peter declared, standing up abruptly.

Olivia choked on her eggnog. "You're kidding."

"Nope," he said, stumbling slightly as he picked up the purple ring and climbed into it. "Turn up Miserlou."

Olivia happily followed his request and turned up the volume on the record player so that Dick Dale was much louder; she swayed her hips slightly, dwelling on the thought that Peter liked dancing.

"I'm beating your time," Peter said smugly as he glanced at his watch while he hula-hooped.

"No. No, this isn't right. I know I'm better at this than you," Astrid said angrily, crossing her arms.

"Wrong. In a hula-hooping competition _**I**_ would win," Olivia declared competitively, though she wasn't sure if this was true.

Peter snickered. "Yeah, like anyone can picture _you_ hula-hooping."

Olivia frowned. "Fine, when you stop, I'll prove it."

Peter pointed to Astrid, who was drinking straight from the carton of eggnog. "Astrid is going to be completely shitfaced by the end of the day."

"**Hey**! Don't say that!" she said angrily then grinned. "I'll be _blitzed_."

Peter rolled his eyes, still spinning the hula-hoop. "Oh, sorry. I didn't realise there was a difference."

"There isn't. I just thought it sounded more festive. On Donner, on Blitzen!" Astrid sang loudly.

Olivia decided it was time to hide the thermos of suspected bourbon.

* * *

Walter awoke to the sound of laughter out in his lab. He was a little surprised to find himself lying on a cot by the heater in Olivia's office, a warm fleece blanket covering him. He snuggled against the soft pillow that smelt like royal icing and he smiled, thankful that once again he had woken up somewhere other than St. Claire's. He stretched his arms and legs, releasing his body from the confines of the plaid-patterned blanket. There was something very important, very, very important that if forgotten could result in disaster. And possible staleness.

He sat up and let the blanket fall to the floor, ignoring it to rummage through a shoebox he had hidden behind a tower of file boxes here in the office. He could smell the contents of the box and the anticipation of showing the three younger members of his group was almost more than he could handle. Finally grabbing what he had been searching for, he hurried out of the office and into the lab.

The blonde FBI agent was hula-hooping, Peter was pouring himself more eggnog and Ascidium was transfixed on a stopwatch in her hand. Olivia noticed his appearance first and let the hula-hoop drop.

"I smell gingerbread cookies," she said as his assistant cheered and pumped her fist in the air.

Walter held up the shoebox proudly. "I remembered that I had been decorating these when you were sleeping last night. I wanted them to be a surprise."

"Gingerbread men!" Olivia said taking one.

Peter and Astringent came over as well, though unfortunately didn't have the same reaction of joy.

"Oh my god—why are there exit wounds on the back of their heads?!" Peter said recoiling from the box.

Asyllabic gagged slightly and Walter frowned.

"They aren't exit wounds, Peter! They're yarmulkes! I ran out of blue icing," he explained, distressed at his son's overactive imagination. "Besides, everyone knows that exit wounds don't look like that."

Olivia took a bite of the gingerbread man's head and admitted, "They _are_ pretty good."

"Take one," Walter growled, forcing the gingerbread towards his son and his assistant.

"Walter where did you get these cookies?" Olivia asked as she reached for another one.

"We bought them at Safeway the other day. I had forgotten about them until now," Arkose explained as she examined the red icing yarmulke on the back of her gingerbread man.

"I'm hungry. Let's have dinner," he begged, eyeing the refrigerator.

"I'm hungry, too."

"Armiger! Bring me my wok!"

The girl sighed, rolling her eyes as he had obviously mispronounced her name yet again, but went off to find his cooking ware. Forty minutes later after a lot of heated oil, plenty of preshredded potatoes, a call to the nearest Chinese takeout, and an argument regarding the best way to eat Oreos, Walter's feast for the Festival of Lights was ready.

"A traditional Hanukkah dinner of latkas with applesauce and sour cream, sufganiyot with apricot and plum jelly, grapes, pecans, and chow mein," he announced proudly, admiring the food he had arranged.

"This looks great!" Peter said, emptying most of the first carton of Chinese noodles onto his paper plate.

Walter opened his mouth to say something he had been rehearsing all night while working on the cookies.

"To a wonderful Hanukkah!" Olivia interrupted before he could speak and Walter glared at her.

"_Ha'ahava hi mekor hachaim_," he said softly as he shifted his attention to Aeolis.

"What did you say?" Peter asked, but Walter wasn't paying attention to him at the moment.

The girl had one of the most beautiful smiles on her face as she translated. "The love is the source of life."

"You speak Hebrew?" Peter asked through a mouthful of sufganiyot.

Her eyes were still locked on his and Walter could see the humour twinkling in their brown depths. "Enough."

"That's beautiful, Walter," the blonde said before taking a big bite of a latka.

Walter was sure the other two weren't looking as he raised his glass to towards Asbestos. Her smile broadened and she did the same.

"It's snowing outside!" Olivia declared suddenly and they all turned to look at the windows.

Indeed, fine delicate flakes of powdered snow were falling from the evening sky. Walter had always loved the snow.

"You know what this reminds me off?" he asked. "What it looks like to dust confectioner's sugar across a woman's—"

"Stop!" Peter ordered, pointing his chopsticks at him.

* * *

They were sated a few hours later and had moved from the desk to seats arranged in front of the television where they were watching a "Knishmas" special regarding a little purple raccoon who lived in a glorious land called Marzipan.

"Marshmallow dreidels," Addle offered, holding up a clear plastic box.

Indeed in the box were four marshmallow dreidels, coated in blue sugar and topped with a pretzel stick.

"Any more sugar and I'm probably going to get sick," Peter said, but reached for the treat anyway.

"I love marshmallows," Olivia admitted as she grabbed hers.

"I love the colour blue!" Walter cheered as he snatched up his.

"What if we were all named after food?" Walter pondered through the gooey white candy. "I would want to be called "Walnut!"

"Because you're nutty?" the blonde asked with a laugh.

"Root Beer," he said pointing to Armistice.

"You'd be Meringue," he added with a nod to Olivia.

"And Pecan!" he christened his son. "Because you love pecan pie!"

"Yes, I know," Pecan said.

"And it starts with a "P"!" he added enthusiastically.

"I _know_," the boy glowered.

The blonde laughed and stood up. "Hey, I think I'm going to go home. I have to meet Broyles early at the office tomorrow."

"And then you'll come here?" Walter inquired.

"Of course. What good would Walnut, Pecan, and Root Beer be without Meringue?"

Walter made a face. "What are you _talking_ about?"

"I'll walk you to your car." Peter stood up too and put on his coat. "Astrid, would you mind—"

"Watching Walnut? No problem," she said turning off the television.

His son looked firmly at him. "Walter, get your coat on while I'm gone so we can leave when I get back."

"Yes, sir!" he said with a mock salute.

Peter shook his head and left with Agent Dunham, leaving him alone with Adenosine. He suddenly found himself very nervous and self-conscious. Walter stood up and went to the coat tree by the door, selecting his charcoal-coloured wool coat.

"_Viscum album_," he said pointing to the ceiling above the doorway.

She looked a little confused but followed his finger, seeing the mistletoe. "Oh."

"Isn't it funny that a parasitic plant is used to give lovers the opportunity to kiss?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

She cocked her head as she put on her own jacket. "I suppose it is."

"Are you a fan of it?" he inquired as they sat comfortably on the cold cement steps to the lower half of the lab.

"Mistletoe?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

He nodded.

She shrugged her shoulders as though she hadn't given it much thought, but the hint of a smile suggested otherwise. "I've been known to take advantage of it."

"I would use it as an excuse to kiss pretty girls," he admitted sheepishly.

She smirked. "I bet you did."

They sat there in the dark, the silence palpable and he wondered if he ought to try and take advantage of the moment. He rubbed his palms nervously across his corduroy pants, briefly wondering if he had ever told Peter "thank you" for doing the laundry.

"Zero, one, one, two, three, five, eight…" he began to count, trying to calm himself.

"Thirteen, twenty-one…

He turned to her and smiled. "Thirty-four, fifty-five, eighty-nine…"

"One hundred and forty-four," she finished in the softest whisper, and he leaned his head in close to hers.

Her soft curls brushed his forehead and he wondered what she was thinking aside from the Fibonacci sequence. Maybe she was imagining the numbers of Pi, or dare he hope, the beautiful forms of the Lute of Pythagoras. He could picture the star fractals lining themselves infinitely within her mind… the sound of her breathing was matching time with his and he looked into her eyes…brown ones that were deep like the center of the universe—

The door to the lab opened and they both jerked their heads away to look at who had come in. Peter, bundled in his black peacoat and dark scarf, stood in the doorway, peering into the dim room.

"Walter, are you ready to go?" he called out.

Walter stood up, as did the girl. "Yes."

"Thanks for waiting with him, Astrid," his son said.

She nodded, neatly wrapping her purple scarf around her neck. "My pleasure."

The three started to walk out the door but Walter quickly grabbed his son by the arm.

"Careful, Peter. Mistletoe," he said pointing to the ceiling.

Peter gave him a strange look. "Uh, thanks, Walter."

Walter smiled at the assistant as he held the door open for her. "After you, Abstinence."

She smiled and Peter sighed in annoyance. "Her name is Astrid, Walter. Astrid."

* * *

**A/N:** aw snap and you thought I was gonna let them kiss.

Astrid hula hooping is now my number one "I wanna see this happen on the show."


	3. and Festivus!

**Chapter Title:** _And Festivus_

**Pairing: **_Olivia/Peter, Olivia/John Scott, Walter/Astrid (to an extent)_

**Characters: **_Astrid F, Olivia D, Peter B, Walter B_

**POV: **_Peter_

**Genres: **_Holiday, Family/Friends, Feats of Strength, Angst, Comfort/Hurt, Romantical_

**Spoilers: **_You have to pretend 1.10 never happened as this was started before "Safe" and I'm not writing happy stuff without Liv :(_

**Challenges:** _December 23 2008, Festivus, Peter_

**Part of a Series?:** _Yes, "A Very Fringe Holiday"_

**Chapters: **_3/3_

**Word count:** _3289_

* * *

"My sides _hurt_," Olivia Dunham moaned as she came into the laboratory that morning and Peter watched with some amusement as she stiffly removed her coat.

He knew exactly what her ailment was. "The hula-hoop."

His own sides had hurt terribly this morning too and he was finding it hard to bend his torso, but Peter Bishop considered himself a trooper and had been through far worse than a semi-drunk hula-hooping competition. He's simply wrangled up some extra Advil and tried not to show any of the pain he was feeling.

"The hula-hoop," his father agreed from the direction of Gene, whom he was milking.

Peter followed her to her makeshift office, wanting to get this valuable time with her, a moment where he wasn't being interrupted by Walter and where she wasn't being distracted by science.

"So are we celebrating anything today?" she asked as she unwrapped her scarf and tossed it onto the top of her desk.

"Yeah, my winter holiday. Happy Festivus, Liv."

She grinned. "Like the holiday on Seinfeld?"

"Exactly."

"Very modern of you, Peter. Sticking it to the religious fundamentalists?" she teased.

"You could say that," he said smugly as he followed her back out of the office and into the laboratory.

The door to the lab opened and in popped a very jovial Special Junior Agent Astrid Farnsworth. "Morning everybody!"

"How's your hangover, Astrid?" Peter asked, recalling how much eggnog she had managed to drink the day before.

She gave him a triumphant smile. "Don't have one. I can hold my alcohol, Peter,"

"You were one of those wild co-eds, weren't you?" Walter scolded.

She gave him a very innocent look. "I admit nothing, Dr. Bishop."

"Naughty girls don't get gelt," Walter said as he handed her a few gold wrapped chocolates.

Peter rolled his eyes.

"Today is my holiday," he declared.

"And what are you planning on celebrating? The Solstice?" Astrid said smartly.

"No," he said shaking his head at her. "_Festivus_."

"The holiday for the rest of us!" Olivia added brightly.

"And what is Festivus, Peter?" his father asked, looking excited.

"Well, it involves a pole and feelings of resentment."

Walter looked crestfallen. "Oh no, Peter, I've sworn off strip clubs—I'd rather not tempt myself."

Astrid snorted behind her hand and Peter rolled his eyes.

"Festivus has nothing to do with that," he snapped and retrieved the purchase he had picked up in the Harvard bookstore that morning. "This is the Festivus pole."

He attached the base to the bottom of the solid aluminum pipe that stood about six feet high and stood back to admire the low-maintenance holiday decoration. Walter walked around it, inspecting the pole before finally saying,

"The base looks sturdy, but I think that young lady right there is the only one here light enough to use it safely."

Olivia laughed, Astrid's eyes became as large as saucers, and Peter slapped his palm to his forehead.

"Why am I even trying?" he asked, though he wasn't sure to whom. "Walter, there is no stripping, there is no pole dancing. This is the low-maintenance, non-commercial version of the Christmas tree—"

"Astarte, find me Mr. Papaya. He shall be the Festivus Pole topper!" Walter shouted.

"We ate him over a month ago," Astrid said kindly.

"Oooooooohhhhhh. The friendliest of fruit," his father lamented.

Olivia turned to him. "Peter, come help me with my office menorah."

Relieved to have an opportunity to get away from the exasperating older man, he followed the blonde to her office where she promptly shut the door.

He lifted her test tube menorah and scrutinized the odd holiday decoration. "What do you need help with?"

She gave him a mischievous smile. "I just wanted to get you away, to myself."

He set the menorah down and returned the smile. "Any particular reason?"

She shrugged. "You seem a little tense and I know your father does nothing to help the matter."

Oh. Of course. He leaned his back against the door and folded his arms across his chest, hoping that she couldn't see the disappointment. Her attention seemed rather focused on a stack of files though and he could only act nonchalant as he watched her.

"So, uh, interesting report?" he asked after a minute or two of silence.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, tons of fun. I love explaining to the Bureau why we needed a ton of terrariums for frogs I found."

He grinned. "Remind me to never complain about being a civilian contractor again. I wouldn't last a week if I had to do all that paperwork."

Liv laughed and lowered her eyes to the files in her hands—Peter assured himself that he was imagining the blush. He hated the awkward quietness though—

Wait. It was too quiet.

"I'm going to go check on them," he said in a low voice and Olivia nodded.

He silently opened the office door and slipped out. Having been a participant in many a shady activity, Peter had learned how to be very stealthy, which was perfect when he was constantly checking up on his father. He spotted them riveted at one of the many computers, their backs turned to him. He stood against the column quietly, watching the two. Walter was first to speak aloud as he read from the screen.

"The celebration of Festivus begins with Airing of Grievances, which takes place immediately after the Festivus dinner has been served. It consists of lashing out at others and the world about how one has been disappointed in the past year." Peter watched Walter visibly shrink from the computer screen as he gave a sad, "Oh."

He watched Astrid place her hand on his father's shoulder. "You okay, Dr. Bishop?"

Walter didn't look at her though. "Can you imagine how long Peter's Airing of Grievances towards me would take? He has seventeen years to make up for. There wouldn't be time for anything else."

"Oh, I'm sure Peter wouldn't take the opportunity to humiliate you," Astrid assured, though she hardly sounded convinced.

"This sounds mean," his father insisted.

"Well, I guess it kind of is," she agreed, her tone sounding rather uncomfortable.

"Why would Peter want to celebrate like this? Holidays are about being together," the older man asked almost desperately.

Peter grit his jaw as he fought back tears. _'I started celebrating it because you weren't there. How could I celebrate Christmas without you? It wasn't the same! There was nothing left to be happy about.'_

"Feats of Strength. Hmm…ooh! I like the sound of this. _"Traditionally, the head of__the household selects one person at the Festivus celebration and challenges that person to a wrestling match. Tradition states __that Festivus is not over until the head of the household is pinned in the wrestling match"_," he read aloud then turned to Astrid. "As head of this household, I'm going to challenge you."

"What? No way! I'm not wrestling with you!" She laughed, jerking her comforting hand away from him.

"Well, Peter isn't going to want to do it and Olivia looks like she could actually take me on. I'll at least stand a fighting chance against you."

Obviously, Astrid was beginning to see he was serious and she frowned. "Absolutely not, Walter. We aren't wrestling each other. For any reason."

Peter decided it was time to step in, so he left the shadow. "What are you guys up to?"

Astrid and Walter spun around and his father's face lit up. "We were researching Festivus. Wanted to make sure we'd celebrate it properly."

"Oh." Peter hated feeling guilty and he gave a shrug. "Look, I was thinking we could ditch Festivus."

His father looked horrified at the suggestion. "No, it's your holiday and I want to wrestle with Asteroid."

"Walter, you're not wrestling with Asteroid."

"_Astrid_," she corrected them both. "And I'm not wrestling."

* * *

Olivia had very wisely suggested that they all go for a walk outside to get some fresh air and Peter was more than happy to get out of the stuffy lab. Actually, everyone seemed excited to be heading out, a quick bustle to get into jackets, scarves, gloves, and tuques.

"No snowballs, no snowmen, no leaving my side," he instructed his father as he helped him into his coat.

His father had happily complied and Peter (guiltily) suspected that it was because Walter wanted to spend time with him.

Now here they stood in the parking lot in the bright light of day, wearing sunglasses to prevent snow blindness, bundled warm. And to their surprise, someone was offering sleigh rides for five dollars a person. Walter had ran over to the two white horses, digging around in his jacket pockets

"Hello, _Equus caballus_. Are you hungry? I have sugary treats you might enjoy!" he said pulling out linty peppermints to feed the animals while Astrid pat them on the nose.

Olivia put her hands on her hips. "Sleigh rides?"

"We should do it," Peter said spontaneously.

"You're not serious are you?" Olivia asked, giving a laugh.

Peter smirked. "Absolutely. You're not chicken are you?"

"No," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly at the challenge. "C'mon, let's go."

Olivia pulled out her wallet and looked at the man sitting at the top of the sleigh. "We want a sleigh ride."

"Twenty bucks," he demanded, lips still clinging to his cigarette.

"I love horses!" Walter declared happily as he hurried over to climb into the sleigh.

Walter sat next to him facing away from the driver and Astrid with Olivia across from them. Peter decided he liked having Ms Dunham sitting across from him, and felt unexpected jealousy that John Scott had taken that for granted—

"Peter had a toy horse he named Polaris," his father said suddenly.

"Polaris?" Olivia asked, looking amused.

Peter knew his cheeks were turning pink. "I was pretty into stars and horses at the same time."

"And he had a little action figure he named Castor, after the second brightest star in the Gemini constellation—" Suddenly Walter looked surprised and began to leave his seat. "Asafetida! Did we buy him his fire truck? We have to go get him—"

Peter quickly grabbed his arm while Astrid assured, "We bought him the truck, Dr. Bishop."

"I'm going to give you the best Christmas ever, Peter," Walter said very firmly then like a switch had been flipped, his mood became cheerful once more. "This is very romantic!"

"And noisy," Olivia complained and Peter grinned, hating the sleigh bells just as much.

Walter pulled more chocolate gelt out of his pocket and offered it to Astrid. "Candy?"

"Eww, it's all melted," she said as it squeezed out of it's wrapper onto her fingers.

Walter shrugged while Peter stared at him. "What?"

"You have nothing disgusting or sexual to say about melted chocolate?" Peter asked, astounded.

"What's there to say?" Walter said, looking baffled.

"It's a Festivus miracle!" Olivia joked and Peter nearly felt his heart stop when she winked.

* * *

Peter had to admit, Olivia Dunham made pretty good meatloaf. Though he wasn't going to tell that to anyone, especially her. She had taken the opportunity to play chef this evening, a traditional home cooked meal of meatloaf, baked potatoes, and steamed asparagus. And he was relieved to keep Walter occupied by the TV, away from sharp objects and hot metal.

They sat in front of the television, watching a ridiculous children's show called "Chowder", the same "Knishmas" special they had seen the night before. It had been quiet and Peter wondered with some guilt if Astrid and Walter were awaiting the Airing of Grievances. But finally the meal was finished and no ill words were exchanged.

"I'm bored. I want to go make snow angels in the parking lot," his father grumbled as he handed Peter his empty plate.

"I'll take you, Dr. Bishop," Astrid said standing up. "And I'll be taking this!"

She grabbed the thermos he had been storing the eggnog's bourbon in and led Walter over to the coat tree. And while Peter wanted to say something about it being late for Walter to be out in the dark, or that it was cold, or something, this was an opportunity to have Olivia alone and he decided he was going to take it.

Once Astrid and Walter shut the lab door behind them, he turned to the blonde.

"Do you dance?" Peter asked Olivia as she put saran wrap over the top of the meatloaf.

She gave an embarrassed smile. "Not very well."

He held out his hand. "C'mere."

She set down the leftovers and took his hand, which he promptly moved to his shoulder. She took the hint that he wanted to slow dance and her other hand followed suit while his fingers very professionally held onto her waist.

"Watch my toes," she teased.

He nodded. "Of course. Do I have to remain at arm length?"

She looked to her left, then her right. "I don't see any chaperones."

Peter smirked and allowed himself to move a little closer to her.

"I don't dance often," she blurted out and he was more than surprised to hear how nervous she was.

Was he causing that or was he just being hopeful?

"It's okay—dancing really isn't really my thing either," he said with a shrug, suddenly wanting to look like one of the "cool kids".

Now her look went from nervous to self-conscious. "Oh. I like dancing…I just don't get the opportunity all that often."

"Ah," he said lamely, feeling like a total idiot for offending her. He really did like dancing…god, this was becoming complicated. "So, your John wasn't much of a dancer?"

She gave a nervous laugh. "No way. He wasn't into romantic gestures like that. He said he was allergic to frou-frou stuff."

He made a face and asked playfully, "Frou-frou? Do you think I'm frou-frou?"

Olivia's laughed. "Not at all! I'd rather think of you as—"

Her eyes widened and she stopped herself.

"As what?" Peter asked, intrigued at this point—how did she want to think of him?

"As, uh…very smart," she stuttered, looking down at their slowly shuffling feet.

That was undoubtedly the lamest save anyone had ever made, but it confirmed two things: he was disappointed she didn't want to say he was the coolest person she'd ever met and that she obviously spent time thinking about him. That last part was a bit of an ego booster and he smugly moved her a little closer.

"So what do you plan on doing for the New Year?" she asked still looking at her feet, her voice a little high.

"Well, I think Walter and I are still sticking around here in Boston. Why?"

Finally her eyes returned to his. "Well, I don't want to do "family" this year. Just too much stuff going on in my life right now. I don't want to deal with their problems when I've got plenty of my own."

He wanted to tell her that she could vent to him if she wanted, but he was afraid he'd be getting to personal with her and she'd be offended. Her hands moved up his shoulders slightly and he felt his skin goosebump under his sweater.

"So tell me, has the time you've spent here in the lab all been in vain?" Peter asked, trying to distract himself from the thoughts he was having.

She shook her head. "I've learned a lot about you."

"Such as?" he asked, his interest peaked.

She grinned. "Well, your father told me yesterday that you're circumcised."

"Thank you, Walter," he grumbled, feeling his face get red.

She tilted her head slightly, looking sheepish. "And that you like your hot chocolate with ground nutmeg."

"Is that important to you?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah," she said, and even though she shrugged, he could tell she was serious. "I'd hate to offend you by using cinnamon or chocolate shavings."

She moved a little closer, almost so that their bodies were touching and Peter was having a hard time not pulling her against him so that he could ki—

There was shouting in the hallway and Astrid came storming in, causing them to break apart quickly.

"What's wrong?" Olivia asked as Walter came tailing in.

"I don't see what you're so angry about! You won!" he said dramatically throwing his scarf on the floor.

Astrid pointed an accusing finger at Peter. "Your father _tackled_ me on the lawn."

"It's Festivus. I was following tradition," Walter said innocently.

Peter was horrified. "Walter, you didn't—"

"Yes, he did. He did that stupid "feats of strength" against me," Astrid snapped.

"She won!" Walter protested, tossing his hands in the air.

"Pace yourself," Olivia warned as Astrid began to drink straight from the thermos of bourbon.

"Walter, that can be considered sexual harassment," Peter said sternly.

"There was nothing sexual about it," Walter grumbled.

"It was cold and my hair got caught in one of the holly bushes," Astrid added.

"What were you two doing?" Walter asked curiously.

"Nothing!" Peter insisted.

Olivia pointed to the half covered meatloaf. "Finishing up the leftovers."

"I want a meatloaf sandwich," his father whined loudly. "With mustard, Peter!"

"I'm going to get drunk so that I can deal with _you_, sir," Astrid spat, her word slightly slurred together.

Walter stuck out his tongue. "Get as drunk as you want."

"I will," she retorted.

Peter wondered if this was how parents felt when their children were bickering in the backseat of the car on a long road trip.

"We'd still be out there if I hadn't let you win," Walter added snidely.

Astrid snorted. "You didn't let me win."

"Yes, I did," he insisted.

"No, you didn't."

"Ares, I most certainly did."

Astrid stood up quickly, knocking her chair over, which made Peter jump. "A rematch. _Now_."

"You guys aren't going to fight—" Olivia started, but Walter and the resident assistant scrambled for the doorway, shouting angry threats at one another.

Peter set down the mustard knife and sighed. "C'mon. We should make sure neither of them get hurt."

* * *

Peter stood on one of the icy walkways outside the Kersage Building, Olivia Dunham by his side. It was incredibly cold, their breath forming white puffs in the air.

"This is the best holiday season I've ever had," Olivia said softly and Peter had never seen anyone look so beautiful with a red nose, bundled up in a billowy parka and furry earmuffs.

"Yeah. Me, too," he agreed.

In a big drift of snow Astrid and Walter were locked in arm to combat. Walter was attempted to jump away while the assistant kicked at him, though the both seemed to be having a hard time keeping their balance.

"Dammit!" they heard Astrid scream angrily as she slipped, which led Walter to kick the powdery snow at her.

"This is the worst drunken fight I've ever seen," Peter observed unimpressed as he pulled out his camera phone to take photographic evidence to tease Astrid with later.

A smaller, but equally warm hand found its way into his as they continued watching the Feats of Strength. He took the picture, trying to act as casual as possible, but he knew his face was red by now.

"This is the worst wrestling match I've ever seen," Olivia added, then yelled out, "No kicking, Astrid."

"Stop pulling my hair!" they could hear her squeal.

"Happy Festivus, Peter," Olivia murmured and he wondered why his heart was pounding.

"Happy Festivus, Liv."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ The corresponding album will be on my LiveJournal Christmas morning, so if you've been good this year, please come download it as my gift to you ;)_


End file.
